


I Can't Dare to Dream About You Anymore

by kiyokusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Unreliable Narrator, anyway, atsumu is mentioned, bc i wrote this before it was confirmed oops, this an AU of suna not making the national team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29343738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyokusa/pseuds/kiyokusa
Summary: you’re a master at breaking your own heart. suna is collateral damage.
Relationships: Suna Rintarou/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	I Can't Dare to Dream About You Anymore

You tend to entertain this fantasy when things get tough. 

It involves a very  _ Gone Girl  _ esque montage except you don’t commit murder or frame anyone for your murder, you never come back and you leave your woeful lover wondering where you’ve gone as you start a new beginning. 

It’s a good fantasy, fulfilling your need for an emotional release. 

The reality is though that you need to stop fantasizing of this new, perfect life and start figuring out the shithole one you’ve created for yourself. 

You turn to face the wall, clutching the blanket to your neck. The thought of facing Suna after his shower makes a heavy pit form in your stomach so you opt to act like you’re still asleep. 

It’s four in the morning and he’ll need to get going to practice. You’re an hour out from his team’s training facility and if your internal Google Maps is right, he needs to be leaving within the next fifteen minutes if he wants to make it to practice on time. 

The shower shuts off after what seems like well past fifteen minutes. It won’t surprise if you soon hear Suna curse because he enjoyed his hot shower for a little too long. 

You force a relaxed look on your face, dropping your shoulders from their bunched position. Even without you facing him, he had a way of knowing if you’re awake or not. 

He shuffles out of your bathroom and you can hear the yawn splitting his face in two. He knocks into the doorframe, a mumbled curse leaving his lips as he blindly feels for the walls. 

Suna pauses at the foot of the bed.

You’re hyper aware of your heartbeat. 

He takes a few seconds to stare at your form before dipping his hand under the blanket and gripping your ankle loosely, “I’m heading out.” 

His voice is gravelly, sleep evident. 

You stay still and he sighs, patting your ankle before heading to the door. A few moments later you can hear the click of your front door locking as he leaves. 

You sit up, the blanket pooling around you. You move across the bed to your bedside table to make for your phone. You unlock it, wincing at the unforgiving 4:30am that’s looking back at you. 

There’s no way you are going to be able to go back to sleep after this. 

Let it be known that you are  _ [name] _ and you never learn your lesson. 

**

Let’s back this up a bit. 

To set the scene, you are twenty-one years old and he is twenty-five years old. 

You have recently graduated (early mind you) and you feel a bit aimless in your job position. You know you’re lucky to have a job right after graduation but with the way your work has decided to pile projects onto you, you’re feeling rather unlucky. 

It’s almost as if your boss had taken one look at your age and decided you’d be the perfect candidate for their social media team even though that’s not what you had originally applied for. The pay is good so you suppose it could have ended up worse. 

Suna, on the other hand, is on a successful pro volleyball team well known throughout the league. At this point, the EJP Raijins have an undefeated record, even besting the Black Jackals and taking their undefeated title. He’s racked in multiple MVP awards and is currently the most well-rounded middle blocker in the league. 

Yet, it’s not him chosen to represent Japan in the Olympics. 

He gets to sit on his ass and watch the Olympics like the rest of the world while his high school teammates get to represent Japan. He’s proud of them but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness that overtakes him. 

He figures they don’t know how disappointed he really is if Atsumu feels free to joke about him not making the roster. Suna learns to bury his negativity deep and shoot out some snide comment about Atsumu being a bench player for Japan which ends as well as one might think. 

Osamu’s given him more extra onigiri than he can stomach those days. Whether it’s because of his comment or because Osamu realizes Atsumu’s being an oblivious dick is yet to be determined. 

He’s an adult so he learns to curb his disappointment and channel it into something more productive. 

Suna decides he might as well bite the bullet and sign one of the deals offered to him by the many athleisure companies out there. 

If all goes well, he’ll be raking in more money than he’ll know what to do with by this time next year. 

He happens to get more than he bargained for when he meets you. 

Suna knows these companies are meant to kiss his ass for the time being so that he’ll sign with them but  _ you _ are an anomaly that he didn’t anticipate. 

He finds himself pleasantly shocked when he finds that it’s  _ you _ that seals the deal for him. 

It’s not out of some romantic ideal that he signs with the company you’re working for, though you are rather pretty. 

What draws him in is the concept video you created to entice him. 

It’s obvious you’re a fan of his, one that takes careful note of his social media pages and hell, even his liked tweets. 

The video is so curated that it makes every other concept video he’s seen before seem careless. 

He knew the people creating those videos most likely did a cursory lookover his life and social media and pulled together what they think he wants to see. Before you, he had been heavily considering the offer from  _ Adidas _ , content with the ideas they’ve thrown at him and the freedoms they’re willing to grant. Their actual marketing hadn’t really sold him but the liberties they’re willing to provide lets him overlook how superficial their marketing had been. [It also helps that they have some of the biggest names across the world. ]

The thought of being included in a list that contains Damian Lillard and Lionel Messi, well that’s just the cherry on top. 

His preference has always been  _ Nike _ and so when the offer came through, he had almost said yes out of reflex. But after a careful look at the contracts, his manager had cautioned him against making a deal until he saw the other groups. 

He has high hopes for  _ Nike _ but he’s also aware he won’t be able to make as many demands with  _ Nike _ knowing they’re so highly sought after. And with being so sought after, the odds of them truly caring about Suna are very low. 

He and his generation of players have single-handedly caused an uptick in the popularity of volleyball, especially in Japan, but it’s not as if  _ Nike _ couldn’t find other more globally known players who are willing to play by their rules.

He’s drumming his fingers on the table with his body leaned back into the chair when you show up. You’re late by a few minutes, citing issues with your laptop to which his and your teams wave off with a few strained chuckles. 

His manager straightens, offering you a tight smile and a hand. Suna can see him falter a little when he takes in how young you look. 

You introduce yourself, a certain glass-eyed look appearing on your face when you meet Suna’s eyes. 

He takes your hand, not surprised at how much softer it is than his. However, he is surprised at the firmness of your grip and the way you don’t break eye contact. 

He likes that. 

You’re clearly nervous and clearly a fan but you’re facing him head-on like he’s one of your regular clients. It’s admirable for a rookie. 

He can see your hands shaking as you introduce yourself to the room and motion towards the screen in front of them. 

This is already an upgrade seeing as  _ Under Armour _ showed him their video on a laptop. 

You press play and for the next two minutes, Suna is enthralled. 

He can’t take his eyes off the screen, watching as the video cycles through all the greats who have joined  _ Nike _ , all the ones he knows he’s tweeted about. You include some joke about  _ Arsenal _ which actually makes him smile faintly. 

You reference hopes and dreams he had declared back in Inarizaki and how it’s impacted his game. You include how his hopes and dreams have evolved since joining the pros, pulling up old footage of when he first joined the EJP Raijins. He forgot how young he was when he joined and how idealistic his views were of the league. You tie it back to how  _ Nike _ is here for him and for his growth, that his evolution is one of the things you and your team are most excited for. 

The video ends too soon. 

He can see how what he assumes is your superior is delighted at how in depth you went and the visuals you provided. 

You’re looking around the room nervously, bouncing back to Suna after every third person. 

Suna runs his tongue over his bottom teeth. 

It’s an easy decision. 

By policy, he gives it a couple days before he signs with  _ Nike _ with a few changes to the original contract for his own benefits. 

He had emphasized to his manager how important you were in his decision and it causes a snowball effect. 

Somehow, you’re shuffled around until you end up working alongside him on the shoes he’s hoping to put out sometime in the next year. 

Now, he hadn’t been looking for anything. He’s careful about maintaining boundaries with fans, the power dynamic not sitting right with him. There is too much room for error in which he can take advantage of someone, intentionally or not, when it comes to fans. 

But the lines get a bit blurred when he starts working with you. 

You’re a fan. You admit to it sheepishly the first time he mentions offhandedly how good your video is. You can’t quite meet his eyes when you say it. 

“I know,” he responds, “I can tell.” 

He sees the way your eyes slide out of focus and you start looking like you’re contemplating jumping out the window next to the two of you. 

He can’t resist adding, “It’s why I went with  _ Nike _ .” 

His tone doesn’t change but your shoulders loosen all the same. 

Your blinding smile eases some of the resentment that’s been brewing in his gut since the Olympic notices went out. 

It’s a gradual thing. You two start meeting outside of work to discuss the designs. Then the conversations start to shift from designs to your personal lives and before he knows it, he’s visiting your apartment with food in tow and a few recommendations of shitty movies in mind.

You stop seeing him as Suna the middle blocker and start seeing him as Rintarou. 

It’s nice. 

It’s really nice. 

The lines get further blurred when he starts sleeping with you. 

The age gap between you two isn’t so significant that he worries he’s taking advantage of you somehow. He can tell it’s your differing careers that makes you so uneasy. You hold yourself back around him. 

You’re emotionally more reserved in the aftermath, your eyes shuttering and your mouth pursed when you think he’s not paying attention. He can feel your heartbeat when he wraps his arms around your pliant body, thumping harder than it should be. He drags you to his body in the vain hope that it’ll keep you there, if only for a little longer. 

All the same, you wander out of his apartment minutes later, citing some project that needs to be done though you both know it’s bullshit. 

Suna wonders why you hold yourself back in these moments and not when he has your legs thrown over his lap while you two try to convince his cat not to sleep on your neck when you’re watching TV with him. Or when he shows up to your apartment with bags of jellies that he needs to hide from his nutritionist and you give him that soft, exasperated smile that makes him feel like his world is off center, if only a fraction. Or when you pick him up from the airport in the middle of the night, sleep clear in your eyes but a bag of Osamu’s onigiri in hand as you beckon him over to your car with an unconsciously fond look on your face when he makes a show of having to be the one to put his luggage in the trunk and not you. 

He wonders. 

But he keeps his mouth shut. 

Suna wants to play by your rules. 

If you’re okay with keeping it casual then he’ll be okay with it too. 

He has to be. 

**

Okay, you think you messed up somewhere along the line. 

Anyone who knows you knows how big of a fan you are of Suna Rintarou of the EJP Raijins. How could you not be? He’s hot and he’s a good player. His Twitter makes you laugh and his sponsored Instagram posts make you wish his PR agents knew better. 

When you got the assignment to work on winning Suna over, you might have blacked out for a few minutes. 

Suna is one of two athletes that can send you into cardiac arrest, [the other being Dwyane Wade] and never did it cross your mind that your second favorite athlete would consider signing with the company you are currently working for. 

It all ended up working out in the end but there were a few times during the process where you might’ve felt like throwing up from the nerves. The thought of  _ the _ Suna Rintarou using something you’d create to consider your company as a sponsor made you lightheaded in the way that only meeting your favorite celebrity can. 

You assume everything worked out too well because you’re currently getting dicked down by your favorite volleyball player. 

You’re grateful to whatever cosmos have set up this chain of events for you but you also curse them mildly for putting you in this position. 

Six months have passed since Suna and you have embarked on whatever this is and you’re  _ tired _ . 

You want to keep playing it cool but it’s becoming impossible. Somewhere in the midst of befriending Suna and sleeping with him, you’ve fallen in love. 

You have tried your best to manage your feelings for him but lately, it feels like it will begin to overflow out of you. 

There’s something to be said about not meeting your heroes.

You’re not dumb, you can tell the persona Suna puts on on social media is a watered-down version of himself. 

You had certain ideas about him that he crushed within the first couple weeks, but he also managed to be better than anything you could have come up with. 

It’s bad for your heart. 

Unfortunately for you, Suna has hit the mark on everything you want in a partner. 

You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic. Not for yourself, anyway. 

Yet, you’re almost twenty-two years old and you think you can spend the rest of your life with Suna and want for nothing else. 

You shouldn’t be meeting the love of your life at this age. There’s no reason to not other than that this is not what you had expected for yourself at this point in your life. 

Truth be told, you had accepted that it would be a while before you found someone to share your life with, however brief or however long. It’s a bleak perspective for someone so young but it’s what you have had to work with since you were young. 

You’re not a romantic. You can’t afford to be. 

You can’t afford to allow yourself to want Suna in that way. 

He’s a young athlete with the whole world at his disposal. He’s focused on making it so that the Japan national team will never think of offering anyone else but him a spot once the 2024 Olympics roll around. 

He doesn’t have space in his heart nor his life for you. 

You suppose you could force him to carve out a spot for you but Suna doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. And he doesn’t want you. 

He doesn’t share himself with you. 

You’re not confident in your ability to determine his likes and dislikes despite how close you two have seemed to have gotten in the past eight months. 

You know he likes chuupets. He has a preference for the melon ones and always tries to pass off the grapes ones to you as if he’s doing you a favor. 

You know he’s meticulous about his chopsticks, some superstition about how if they’re not wood, particularly lacquered wood, he’s going to have a bad meal.

You know he prefers the left side of the bed by the way he purses his lips when you steal his spot. You’re sure there’s a superstition there too. 

You know these things because you observe Suna. You can’t help yourself from tracking his every movement and committing them to your mental file on him. 

You don’t know who he considers his favorite twin despite your gut instinct saying Osamu. But you see the way he lights up at Atsumu’s accomplishments despite his jeering and you question yourself. 

You don’t know what he’s thinking most times and when prompted, he looks down on you and shoots you a shitty grin, asking if you’re that curious before giving you some bland answer. 

You don’t know why he prefers to spend his birthdays at home despite the numerous calls he makes to his parents every week and the near daily rush of messages his sister sends him. You’ve met his family, they’re lovely. Why wouldn’t he want to spend it with them? 

With these realizations in tow, you do damage control. 

And by damage control, you mean you go cold turkey with Suna. 

You’ve lessened your communication with him significantly. You no longer send him random texts throughout the day or call him late at night when you think you’ve seen a strange shadow in your apartment. 

You keep it casual. 

You blow him off a bit more than usual, claiming to be busy when all you do is sit at home with a tub of ice cream in hand. 

It’s only been three weeks since you’ve decided to do this but God, does it feel like it’s been three months. 

You miss him. 

It’s stupid. 

He’s right there for the taking and you’re keeping yourself from him. 

Your self-imposed punishment. 

Isn’t the pinnacle of romance taking what you can get and being satisfied with it? Wouldn’t that be better than trying to convince yourself that you can live without him in your life? 

So what if his smile fills you with warmth? So what if you spend nights wondering what it would be liked to be loved by him? So what if you spend hours at work daydreaming of showering him in the love that feels as if it will burst out of you at any given second? 

You can take what you are given but it will be a hollow victory. 

You can’t be satisfied with the scraps of Suna’s affections. 

You want him. 

You want all of him. 

Yet this is not what’s holding you back. 

The real fear you harbor is letting yourself have all of him and letting him have all of you. 

Are you capable of giving someone your entire heart? 

Suna integrated himself into your life in a way that you can cut him off and theoretically suffer no consequences and yet, the thought of not having him in any capacity is ruining you. 

You’re sick to your stomach at the thought of Suna letting you go so easily and you’re not even a blip on his map currently. He can let you go with no questions asked because the both of you circle one another. Rather, he circles you while you desperately try to claim a place in his world to no avail. 

If this is how you are trying to contain your feelings, you don’t want to see how you will be if you manage to convince Suna to take a chance on you. 

He has your heart unknowingly and you don’t know if you can trust him to keep it safe once you make it known. 

You will not recover if he leaves. 

You need to choose yourself before it is too late. 

(It can be argued that you passed too late a long time ago but you fail to let that thought fully develop.) 

It will be fine. Your heart is caving in on itself but this feeling will not last forever. 

You’re fine. 

You miss his touch, you miss the way he stumbles out of bed with bleary eyes and you miss his dry remarks, especially the ones where he quickly glances at you out of the corner of his eye only to look away when you laugh. 

You’re pathetic. 

You bury your head into your knees. 

Tomorrow’s a new day. 

You’ll try to forget about him again tomorrow.

**

You can’t try to forget Suna because he’s here at your doorstep. 

He has a jar of chuupets in one hand and your takeout in the other. 

“Uh,” you stutter with your door half opened. 

“Hey,” he greets, brushing past you. 

By the time you gather your bearings, he’s already making room for his chuupets on your counter. He haphazardly shoves your toaster to the side to put the jar in the darkest corner as if to hide them. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He doesn’t divert his attention to you. He steps back to see if the jar looks less suspicious next to the toaster which is dumb because it’s not like his nutrionist comes to your place. 

Though, Atsumu has dropped by from time to time and you don’t put it past him to not tattle. 

“You can’t tell me no if I just show up at your door,” he says, repositioning the chuupets. 

You ignore the way your stomach flutters at the image of his hand almost fully encasing the jar. Now is not the time to notice how large his hands are. 

“That is true,” you manage to say. 

You’re hyper aware of the shitty t-shirt and shorts combination you’re sporting after your shower and move to grab the jacket laying on your couch. 

This is not at all how you expected your Saturday to go. 

You had been planning to watch the saddest movies you know, cry for an hour and then journal about how love is something you don’t think is in the cards for you. 

You don’t have the mental fortitude to deal with Suna right now. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

He states this so matter-of-factly that you wince. 

“No I haven’t,” you say automatically. 

The look he shoots you is tired but he doesn’t refute you. 

There’s a moment of silence. 

“Maybe a little,” you amend sheepishly. 

“A little,” he repeats dully. 

“Got a lot on my mind,” you say. 

You take a seat on your couch after you snag your bag of takeout. You had ordered more food than necessary, assuming that you wouldn’t be leaving your couch for the foreseeable future but at least you can offer Suna some food. 

Suna rummages through your drawers, bringing over some utensils. 

He sits on your coffee table and blocks your view of the movie you’ve queued up. 

He stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time as you open up the various takeout boxes before sighing as he hands you a fork. 

“Look, I know you need time to yourself sometimes but can you not ice me out?” 

You pause. “Huh?”

He runs his hand through his bangs. “You don’t have to text me everyday or anything. Just every once in a while.”

You tilt your head at him. You don’t think you’ve been  _ that _ bad about texting him. 

“You haven’t been answering Atsumu or me for the past three weeks.” 

“Yes I have?”

He shakes his head. “Barely.” 

You put your fork down. Now that you think about it, you don’t think you’ve been texting anyone for the past couple weeks. You’ve been emotionally drained separate from your Suna situation for a month now. 

“Huh, I didn’t even notice.” 

Suna fixes his bangs, looking torn. “If you’re stressed, you can tell me.” 

You wave your hand. “I just have a lot on my mind. I’ll do better.” 

He sighs again. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just,” he kisses his teeth, “I want you to trust me. Enough to tell me if something’s bothering you.”    
Maybe it’s a testament to how tired you truly are that the next thing that comes out of your mouth is, “You’re bothering me Suna.” 

He gives you a flat stare. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You shake your head, shoulders slumping. “No, I mean you’re the reason why I’m so bothered. I’m trying to work through it and being around you doesn’t help.”    
His brow furrows. “What?” 

“I don’t want to sleep with you anymore,” you say and you tuck your chin to your knees. “I can’t do it anymore.”    
He looks to you then your doorway then back to you. “Give me a minute.” 

You don’t.

“I think I fucked up. I’m too emotionally invested in you to be having casual sex.” 

You thought you’d feel better admitting it but you don’t feel better. 

You feel worse truth be told. 

“I’d hope so since we’re dating?” 

Huh? 

You look at him funny. “What are you talking about?” 

He points at you and then himself. “What else have we been doing the past couple months?”

“Friends with benefits?”

Suna scrunches his nose a bit with tongue pushed out on his cheek. “No.”

“You never asked me anything.”    
“Yeah I did.” 

You stare at him incredulously. “Trust me, Suna. I’d know.”

“When I took you to my parent’s place? When I asked if you’d like to meet them?” 

“In what world are those the words ‘would you like to be my girlfriend?’”

“Why else would I bring you to meet my parents?”

“I don’t know Suna, that’s what I was asking myself the entire time,” you snap. 

You don’t know where to put your hands so you settle on flexing them underneath your jacket sleeves. 

Sure, it had crossed your mind that it was a little strange that Suna wanted you to meet his parents and that he was so nervous about it but what were you supposed to think?

“Rin,” you cover your face, “I’ve been sick to my stomach for  _ weeks _ because I’m in love with you and you thought we were dating this entire time?” 

He pulls your hands away from your face, his usual blank look back on his face. 

“What did you think we were doing the past month?” 

“I don’t know! I thought I was convincing myself that something was there when there wasn’t but there was! I’m an idiot.”    
You pause. 

“No I’m not. We’re bad at communicating. We’re both idiots.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you, Rintarou.” 

Your heart is at your throat. You might throw up. 

“We should talk about this huh?” he says as he takes a seat next to you. 

He pushes your takeout closer to you and grabs one of his own. 

He opens his box and then looks at you. 

“I love you.” 

It’s a consolation for the talk you two are about to have. 

You wipe the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”

You mean it this time. 

**

Suna lets you situate yourself on his lap, almost knocking the controller out of his hand as you try to make yourself comfortable. He hooks his chin over your shoulder once you finally settle and brushes his lips underneath your ear. 

It’s been a couple weeks since you two have talked and he’s happy. 

Scratch that, that doesn’t encompass how he feels at all. 

He’s happier than he thought was possible for him. 

He’s never felt as if he was missing something but with the way you’ve slotted yourself in his life makes him feel as if he’s never known what coming home truly meant. 

Despite your misgivings, you’re perfect. You’re the girl of his dreams. 

It’s corny and he’d die before letting any of friends know that but in the safety of his mind, he can admit it. 

He’s thinking about asking you to move in next month. 

You two have wasted enough time keeping your mouths shut. 

Besides, he knows what your answer will be. 

He looks down from the screen to see the way your tongue is poked out of your mouth as you watch his game highlights on your phone. You huff when the refs don’t call out the other team for a net foul and you smile, one similar to the one he has in the video, when he manages to force the opposing blocker to cede a point. 

Your eyes track his every movement on screen. 

He returns his attention to the monitor, squeezing you a bit tighter to him. 

He doesn’t have to wonder anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
